


Arrival - The Aftermath

by turnedherbrain



Series: The Notorious Nathan Appleby [1]
Category: The Living and the Dead (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post-Series, Unrequited Crush
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-26
Updated: 2017-08-26
Packaged: 2018-12-20 01:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11910144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/turnedherbrain/pseuds/turnedherbrain
Summary: London, 1899Nathan and Charlotte Appleby employ a tutor for their daughter Maddie.But can Nathan keep the ghosts of the past, and his visions of the future, from overcoming him?And can their tutor keep her feelings for her employer hidden...





	1. The Characters

**Author's Note:**

> _There was a doctor who couldn’t disguise  
>  His jealousy of men who looked at his wife  
> Behold the crime and judge if you please  
> The tale of the notorious Nathan Appleby._
> 
> Popular rhyme, anon, c. 1901

**The Characters:**

_Above stairs –_

  * Nathan Appleby – master of the house. A renowned psychologist.
  * Charlotte Appleby – his wife. An erstwhile photographer, and a staunch champion of social reform.
  * Madeleine (Maddie) Appleby – their daughter; four years old when the story begins.
  * Gilbert Fennings – a writer, attempting to finish his Great Novel. Attended school and university with Nathan.
  * Ernest Calvert – a friend of the Applebys. An architect, working on the founding of a social housing community. Has an Irish wolfhound called Albert.
  * Inspector Warren – of Scotland Yard.
  * Alfred Winstanley QC – a barrister and a life-long friend of Nathan’s father.



 

_In between –_

  * Kitty Eldridge – Maddie’s tutor. A country girl who has educated herself and is determined to achieve more.
  * Oscar Merrill – Nathan’s assistant, a medical intern-cum-secretary. His attentions/affections are divided between Charlotte and Clara.
  * Madame Stappes – a celebrated French photographer.



 

_Below stairs –_

  * Mrs Gilroy – the Applebys’ housekeeper, long-serving and intensely loyal to the family.
  * Clara Britton – the Applebys’ parlourmaid/chambermaid. Young and given to gossip. In love with Oscar.
  * Tom – the kitchen/errand boy.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ‘Above stairs’ and ‘below stairs’ referred to the occupants’ positions in large country houses. The master of the house and his family lived ‘above stairs’ in the main house. The servants occupied ‘below stairs’, as servants’ quarters were typically located in the basement of a house. 
> 
> However, the concept of ‘above’ and ‘below’ also reflected their respective social status, so the Inspector from Scotland Yard and the barrister are also considered ‘above stairs’ – they would have been middle/upper class.
> 
> Some of the characters in this story are ‘in between’ – trying to climb the social ladder: whether that’s by educating themselves; ingratiating themselves with the gentry, or simply choosing to be bold and stand out.


	2. Arrival

_London, September 1899_

The train disgorged its passengers at St Pancras, spilling them onto the platform. The brief stop in Liverpool had not prepared her for this, as the hustle and flow of so many people almost knocked her battered brown valise out of her hands. A name label swinging from the case, hanging on despite the crowd, read: ‘Kitty Eldridge’.

A rush of sensations assaulted her simultaneously: the pungent smell of coal smoke, the shriek of engines and the choke of dust; the indecipherable hubbub of voices and shouts filling the station. She was pushed and jolted to the ticket barriers by the weight of the milling crowd, finally freed into the larger concourse that overlooked Euston Road.

Yet here was still no peace. No sooner had she been expelled from the barriers than she was accosted by a number of beggars and hawkers, all crowding about the newcomer expectantly. One slight boy, more enterprising than the others, announced: “Make way for the lady, her carriage awaits round the corner!” guiding her arm so that she was ushered away from the many people importuning her.

“Thank you,” she said to her helper, once they’d reached a quieter spot.

“No problem, miss. I can’t stand them hangers on, bothering young ladies. Purchase a trinket so I can buy my next meal? A good luck charm of purest silver, I promise you. It’ll last you into the next millennium!”

He held up a necklace which had a broken filigree leaf dangling from it. Even from a slight distance, it looked like an alloy that had been brightened up to fake splendour. Yet with an upbringing in the country, she couldn’t cast aside a superstitious promise of good fortune, despite her education and reason competing against the notion. Kitty glanced at the boy’s sallow face and dirt-streaked cheeks. She reached into her purse and gave him the change she’d needed for the hansom cab, offering it into his grimy palm with an encouraging smile.

“Thank you, miss, thank you! I wish you all the luck in London. Be careful of thieves, now,” said her protector, depositing the necklace into her hand before disappearing off into the crowd again, no doubt to await the next train-full of innocent newcomers. Kitty curled her fingers around the leaf, feeling the metal crumple slightly as she did so. Well, there was nothing for it but to walk. It was good that she’d worn her overshoes, she thought, as she looked out onto the soot-encrusted pavement and the road lined with dirt.

Over an hour later, her skirt hem and shoes covered with mud and dust, she looked up at the house façade, situated in the midst of a quiet Hampstead avenue. A tiled path led up to the front door and an abundant wisteria overhung the porch. Her home for the next few years.


	3. The Applebys'

Charlotte Appleby opened up another door for Kitty and guided her into the next room: “And here is the library. I imagine you were used to a much larger collection at the Hall?”

Kitty felt like someone had lit a thousand candles and each individual flame was dancing and swaying before her eyes. “They had a library at the Hall, but nothing like this.” And that library was filled with nothing but musty, unread volumes of Pliny the Elder and the Histories of Herodotus, she didn’t add.

“Well, you must use it as you please,” continued Charlotte. “I’m not sure there’s anything in here that’s suitable for Maddie’s lessons, but you are welcome to any volume that takes your fancy.”

Kitty glowed internally: unfettered access to a library was as if someone had offered her the keys to the kingdom.

“I’ll show you to your room before you meet Maddie,” said Charlotte, breaking into her reverie. “I’ve sent her out with Mrs Gilroy because she was far too excited for your arrival, and I wanted to give you some breathing space.”

They walked up a further flight of stairs, Charlotte indicating her’s and Nathan’s bedrooms before mounting another, narrower staircase that led to the top floor. “Here we are. It’s fairly small, but I thought you’d want your own room instead of being closeted with Clara – she’s quite talkative. I hope it’s to your liking.”

“It is, thank you!” said Kitty with genuine gratitude. A library and a room of her own was all that she could wish for.

Charlotte, ever-solicitous, sensed the young woman’s tiredness. She wisely took her leave, saying: “Do take your time to rest and recover. Tom will bring up your case shortly. I’ll ask Clara to fetch you before dinner so you can meet Maddie in the nursery. I’m afraid that my husband completely forgot you were arriving today – he gets quite distracted with his work – and he has invited some of his friends for dinner; don’t worry if you can’t cope with the thought of their conversation and wish to excuse yourself.”

“I’m sure I will attend dinner, Mrs Appleby. Do I need to change?” Kitty looked down at her dress, only one of two that she owned.

“If you wish. You’ll find our household is quite relaxed. And no more ‘Mrs Appleby’! Call me Charlotte, I insist.” With this, Charlotte pulled the door to, and trod lightly down the stairs. She felt completely sure she’d made the right choice for Maddie’s tutor.

………………

After meeting an excited Maddie and being toured around her nursery domain (“This is the dolls’ house. When can we start our lessons? Can it be now?”), Kitty was ushered into the parlour by Clara, the housemaid, who appraised her appearance so that she could tell the others downstairs exactly what the new tutor looked like.

Charlotte was seated by the fire, engaged in a passionate conversation with a tall, spare man who was leaning against the hearth. His quiet, murmured responses suggested that he was used to deflecting her ardour. On another couch, a smaller, rotund gentleman was scribbling in a notebook, appearing not to notice his companions.

“Ah, Kitty!” said Charlotte, rising to greet her. “Miss Kitty Eldridge, may I present Mr Ernest Calvert and Mr Gilbert Fennings, two of my husband’s closest friends.”

“And your friends too, I hope,” interjected Ernest, long legs striding over to where Kitty stood. “A pleasure to meet you, Miss Eldridge. Charlotte told me all about her idea to engage a tutor. I approve wholeheartedly. I do not understand why girls should be denied an education; it should be their inalienable right.”

“The pleasure is equally mine,” said Gilbert, casting aside his notebook and hurrying to join Ernest, until he stood eye to eye with Kitty and a good foot below his friend. “Where did you travel from?”

“From Cumbria. I was at Wolstenholme Hall – I tutored their daughter.”

“How wonderful. And is the landscape there as wild and windswept as people say?” enquired Gilbert.

“Gilbert, really!” interrupted Charlotte. “Allow Kitty pause for breath: she has been travelling since yesterday. Kitty, don’t mind Gilbert, his natural inquisitiveness sometimes gets the better of him. We’re simply filling the time and waiting for Nathan before going in to dinner.” She motioned for Kitty to take a seat on the couch. Charlotte and Ernest quickly resumed their former conversation, although Gilbert did not recommence writing in his notebook, instead casting a sideways look at Kitty’s profile as if he was committing her to memory.

After a while, Clara re-appeared and announced that Nathan did not want them to wait on him for dinner, something which did not appear to surprise or discomfort his guests. “He does as he pleases,” shrugged Gilbert, pocketing his notebook and rising in hungry anticipation of Mrs Gilroy’s home-cooked roast lamb. “He always has.”

Once settled in the dining room and after the meal had been served, Charlotte introduced Kitty properly to the gentlemen. “Ernest has been a good friend since we’ve been in London. He has an architectural practice and is working on designs for a social housing project just north of here.”

“And Mrs Appleby has been a tremendous ally in that venture,” nodded Ernest. “She has the metropolitan councillors queuing to champion our scheme.”

Charlotte deflected and returned the compliment: “Ernest is the fuel in the engine; without him the scheme would lose its momentum. And Gilbert is one of Nathan’s oldest friends. They were schooled together at Marlborough College,” she began.

“Then at Oxford,” continued Gilbert. “Although Nathan’s star has since risen far brighter and higher than mine. I can only lay claim to a half-dozen novellas and short stories, whereas Nathan has a multitude of scientific papers to his name.”

“You’re a writer?” exclaimed Kitty with instant interest. She’d never met a writer before, although her father had once met Dickens on his book tour when it was passing through Norwich, and said he was a fine gentleman.

“I am indeed,” replied Gilbert, eager to preen himself. “I am working on my great novel presently.”

“And what is it about?” enquired Kitty, keen to know more.

“It is a contemporary novel, about fin de siècle London and the malaise that hangs over this city. My main character is to go to the gallows for murder, until a last-minute reprieve pardons him.”

“Remind me how many chapters you have written to date, Gilbert?” asked Ernest teasingly. “Because if you don’t hurry and finish your novel soon, you may have to write it in the past tense.”

“Yes indeed,” Charlotte joined in. “And if you publish in the next century, your hero may yet be reprieved by a future change in the criminal justice system.”

Gilbert’s Great Novel was clearly something that was oft discussed yet never finished, and he shrugged good-naturedly at their teasing. “And how long has your housing scheme taken you, Ernest?”

“It’s been many years in the planning,” concurred Ernest. “And it will be a few years yet before it is built, I suppose. But we have Charlotte campaigning for us now, and Mrs Henrietta Barnett and her husband are figureheads for the scheme. I do not doubt it will be finished.”

“Then my novel will be published at the same time your houses are built,” proclaimed Gilbert, his ruddy face smiling in the lamplight. “Let’s drink to that.”

They were in the middle of their toast when the dining room door was flung open and Nathan Appleby walked in, still wearing his eyeglasses and attempting to read some academic papers at arm’s length, both of which he promptly discarded at the end of the table. Ernest and Gilbert rose to greet their friend, Nathan clapping both men vigorously on their shoulders before walking to the other end of the table and planting a kiss on his wife’s cheek.

“Charlotte… everyone: I do apologise,” he said to the room at large, running his hand distractedly through his hair. “I was busy with work. What did I miss?”

“About half of the roast lamb…” joked Gilbert, sitting down to finish his meal.

“And your chance to be acquainted with Maddie’s tutor?” said Charlotte, arching one eyebrow in only half-pretend admonishment.

“Of course! How remiss of me,” said Nathan, walking round to Kitty’s seat as if he’d only just noticed her. Kitty stood to greet him and was rewarded with a strong handshake, Nathan’s long fingers touching her wrist. “Have these opportunists wrested your life story from you as yet? Although I’m sure Gilbert will retell it to me if I entreat him.”

“No, not at all,” replied Kitty, unabashed. “Mrs Appleby – Charlotte – was only just introducing me to the gentlemen.”

“Well then, we must hear it,” insisted Nathan, pouring himself a glass of wine before doing the same for Charlotte and passing the decanter on to Gilbert. He sat opposite her at the table, as if in anticipation of her story. “Charlotte told me you were a tutor in the north of Cumbria – near Keswick? What was your background beyond that, and what compelled you to seek employment in London?”

Because of the opportunity for more liberty, she wanted to reply. Because of access to private libraries, and museums, and parks, and monuments, and houses like yours where everyone takes their education for granted.

But instead, she said: “Because the countryside does not afford much opportunity for an extended education. As for my background: there’s not much to relate. I grew up in Norfolk – my father was a falconer at Thetford House. He kept sparrowhawks and merlins, and trained them in the traditional hunt, for gentlemen that came up for the sport from Ipswich and London.

I had no desire to follow that life; I had enough schooling at the free school and enough book learning to know of more worlds than that. I’d read Dickens until the candle burnt out, then I’d wake and want to read more. After my father died, I was fortunate to be offered the position of governess at Wolstenholme Hall in Cumbria. The family recently decided their daughter was educated enough at twelve years of age, to no longer have need of my tutelage.”

“Which is where I found out about Kitty: through a chance meeting with Constance Wolstenholme,” said Charlotte, glancing with evident pride at her new protégé. “And the rest, Nathan, you already know.”

The gentleman around the table sat quietly. They were each, in turn, subdued by Kitty’s confidence and her expressiveness. Gilbert silently reached for the notebook he had stowed in his waistcoat pocket, hoping to jot down some character inspiration from Kitty’s tale. Nathan regarded their new tutor with incipient admiration, seeing her appetite for knowledge. “I myself grew up between the country and the town. I trust you will be able to take advantage of all that London can offer in educating Maddie.”

Kitty was pleased when the spotlight moved off her, as the three men began a discussion about their recent visit to the Greater Britain Exhibition at Earl’s Court, something which Charlotte expressed her distaste for: “All of those native Zulu people, on display, like exhibits at a museum. They are _people_ , Nathan, not mannequins.”

“I agree, in part,” said Nathan good-humouredly. “Yet how can we hope to access and understand all of these diverse civilizations in the colonies?”

“By travel? By gaining a deeper understanding of their culture at firsthand?” countered Charlotte.

“If we could afford to travel to all corners of the earth, we would. But not everyone has that opportunity,” reasoned Nathan.

“Yet _you_ do, my learned friend,” interjected Gilbert, to diffuse the difference in opinion between the couple. “How many countries have you lectured in this year?”

And so the conversation went on: Kitty drinking it in thirstily, trying to get the measure of them all.

As for Nathan, the comparative latecomer: she was finding it hard to work him out. She had grown up with farmhands, in-bred countrymen, and city dwellers eager to try out their hunting skills. Yet Nathan seemed a different breed entirely; there was something about his careless disregard for social convention and evident intelligence that intrigued her.

………………

At the same time that the Applebys were sitting down to dine, Mrs Gilroy, Clara and Tom were foraging amongst the leftover meat in the downstairs kitchen.

“Is she pretty?” asked Tom, leaning almost entirely across the table in his enthusiasm to get at his dinner.

“It depends what you mean by pretty,” retorted Clara, who was used to being by far the prettiest servant in the household, and did not want that crown tarnished. “She’s got lots of curly hair, it’s quite wild; and she was quite muddy when she arrived and didn’t seem to care at all. She likes reading, I think. She was very taken when Mrs Appleby showed her the library, like she’d never seen so many shelves full of books all at once.”

“That doesn’t make her sound very pretty,” said Tom, lapsing back onto the kitchen bench in disappointment and chewing his food. “And anyway, what do you know of books? All you do in the library is dust those shelves.”

“I know my letters!” exclaimed Clara in her defence.

“Yes. You can say your ‘a, b, c’ forwards… and backwards,” spluttered Tom, spitting out a particularly tough piece of meat, for which he got a cuff round the ears.

“Table manners, Tom,” said Mrs Gilroy sharply, who had dealt the blow. “Listen to you two, dissecting the poor girl already. She looked pretty enough to me, although I only saw her through the scullery window, and that was fair misted up… But I think Maddie having a tutor is a fine idea.”

“So says Mrs Appleby,” nodded Clara.

“Mrs Appleby’s got lots of ideas,” mused Tom, chewing on a bit of gristle thoughtfully. “Like, the equation of the sexes.”

“I think you mean _equality_ of the sexes?” corrected Clara. “I already think I’m far superior to you Tom, so that means women are not only equal to, but indeed better than men.”

“Well, you’re not better educated than your dear Oscar, so that makes you inferior to him – and he’s a man,” pronounced Tom, as if that piece of logic settled the argument.

Mrs Gilroy sighed, sank down onto the bench, and finally helped herself to some leftovers. It had been a long day, the dinner party guests would expect their dessert served soon, and she wanted to rest her feet awhile. She hoped that she would find an ally in the new tutor: goodness knows these two had been sent to her straight from the devil himself.


	4. The New Age

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • Charlotte attends a ‘suffragist’ meeting. ‘Suffrage’ is the right to vote in political elections. It was a popular cause for middle-class women of the time, who called themselves suffragists. Gaining the vote meant previously unheard female voices would be represented. The history of women achieving the vote in Britain was an extended campaign from the 1860s onwards. In 1918, women who were householders over the age of 30 got the vote. However, universal suffrage for women over 21 was not achieved until 1928.
> 
> • Queen Victoria ruled for most of the 19th century. She famously mourned her husband Albert, who she had designated the Prince Consort, for most of her lifetime. Many places in London are named after him, including in South Kensington: a concert hall - the Royal Albert Hall; the Albert Memorial that stands on the edge of Kensington Gardens, and the Victoria & Albert Museum. (I recommend you take a trip to the V&A, as it’s known, if you’re ever in London – it’s my favourite museum : ))

_London, 1899-1900_

In her third week at her new employers’, having already made progress with Maddie’s schooling, Kitty was woken one night by a strangled cry that emanated from downstairs. Treading carefully towards the source of the noise, she found Charlotte and Mrs Gilroy already on the landing, seemingly having just exited from Nathan’s bedroom.

“Is everything alright?” she asked innocently, wanting to help.

“Perfectly fine, Kitty,” said Charlotte, looking pale and harried in the light cast by her candle. “Please, go back to bed. We have it in hand.” She motioned for Mrs Gilroy to follow her downstairs, and Kitty heard no more noises that night.

However, the same thing occurred on some nights in successive weeks. Oftentimes, there were not only cries, but she could hear Nathan pacing, the creak of the floorboards in his room evidence of his steps. Kitty was moved to ask Charlotte if Nathan was ill.

“Not ill – no. Merely troubled, on occasion. It’s his work,” replied Charlotte, her tone suggesting she did not wish to discuss it further. Mrs Gilroy was similarly circumspect on the matter: “It’s nothing for you to worry about. Poor Mr Nathan’s just got his head on him again,” she said noncommittally, when Kitty asked her the same. Even Clara, who Kitty had found to be an ample source of household gossip, would say no more than: “He gets nightmares, and he sometimes walks in his sleep. It’s harmless. You shouldn’t delve deeper, you know.”

Kitty was astute enough to know when there was deliberate secrecy surrounding a matter, so she questioned them no more, although she wondered what the true source of Nathan’s disturbances were. She understood now why Charlotte had a separate bedroom to him.

One night, when the rest of the household was slumbering, she woke to hear Nathan’s and Charlotte’s muttered voices. They were on the landing below her, and Charlotte sounded like she was trying to reason with him, while Nathan’s voice was strained and louder, so Kitty could just about hear some of his words: “Do you think, because I saw him being led to some kind of eternal glory, that I would no longer re-live it? That the deep wound wouldn’t re-open? It is something I can **never** forget. The lake, the boat. Trying to find him under that cold surface. It is an indissoluble grief. And it will never leave me.”

Charlotte murmured her response, then Kitty heard a door slam, and no more of their argument. The idea of the Applebys being at odds surprised Kitty. Whenever she had chance to observe them together, she could see that they were both passionate, persuasive people who had a lively, affectionate relationship. They conversed with the open familiarity of a couple that had an evident respect for one another.

Not that Kitty had much chance to see Nathan and Charlotte as a couple. They were equally busy, each with their own pursuits, so that Kitty would often dine with either Nathan or Charlotte, rather than the two of them together.

Nathan was a very pleasant dinner companion, although he would eat his food absent-mindedly, being still absorbed with his work. He generally arrived at dinner in his shirt-sleeves, slightly ink-stained fingers evidence of the caseload he was working on. Kitty was fascinated by his duality: he was friendly yet sometimes guarded; handsome, yet lacking in vanity. She was determined to find out more about him.

On one evening, Charlotte had left the house for a suffragist meeting, meaning Kitty and Nathan were to dine alone. Unusually, Nathan had more time to converse, so she took her opportunity.

“You said you grew up partly in the countryside – where was that?” she asked him.

“A place called Shepzoy – in the west country, near Bristol. It’s rolling fields: mostly wheat, some cattle,” replied Nathan, toying with his wine glass and swilling the claret liquid round. “My family owned a small estate there.”

“‘Owned’?” enquired Kitty, innocent of the history of the place. “Did you decide to lease it?”

“Not exactly,” said Nathan elusively. “We have a factor and a housekeeper that maintain both the farm and the house.”

“But you don’t visit the property?”

“No. We prefer to stay in London. Charlotte and I tried living there, but it didn’t work.” His tone shut down that line of questioning, so Kitty tried another topic.

“I admire the liberty that you and Charlotte have in your relationship. It is something that I wish I could have for myself, some day.”

Nathan smiled. “It is Charlotte who gives me **my** liberty. Apart from the estate at Shepzoy, I have no independent wealth of my own. My uncle owns this house and rents it to us on a long-term basis. He paid for my education, as my mother could not afford to. Whereas Charlotte is an heiress, which has always allowed her much more freedom. She married below her status, in marrying me.”

“But what does status matter, if you love one another?” Kitty couldn’t help but reply.

“In this society – it matters a lot. Far too much, in my view.” Nathan looked at her levelly, and then changed the topic in an instant: “My wife thinks that my sleepwalking might be scaring you. I hope you are not disturbed by it? I have trouble sleeping sometimes and wake from nightmares.”

Kitty was unprepared for his directness, and hesitated in her response: “I’ve grown accustomed to it. I am simply concerned for your well-being, rather than frightened.”

“It is something that I keep under control. Charlotte is hugely understanding in the matter, but it causes a strain…”

“The stuff of nightmares cannot hurt us in the light of day,” reasoned Kitty.

“You’d think so. You’d think so,” mused Nathan.

At that moment, Clara re-entered to clear their dinner plates, which halted the direction of the conversation. Kitty was pleased that Nathan had confided in her, but wasn’t convinced by his attempt at self-assurance. Whatever caused him to wake so often at night was something that was deep-rooted and wouldn’t let him go.

………………

Kitty was thwarted in her attempts to discover more about Nathan by the multitude of visitors to the house. Chief among these was Oscar Merrill, a medical student who appeared to act as an intern and secretary to Nathan, but also assisted Charlotte voluntarily with her many causes. His status in the household was unclear: he was neither staff nor confidant.

Clara was always the first to the door to let him in, bowing her head in a deliberately demure manner and taking his coat and hat. Oscar played with her – Kitty could see that, she was no fool – but Clara was neck-deep in love with him, and he flattered her to an almost obnoxious level. While he was clearly good at his job, Kitty felt he had the potential to be cruel and cold-hearted in his relationships, and she maintained an aloof distance from him.

Oscar was the son of a market trader from Northampton, although he tried to disguise his roots in various ways, one of which was adopting the clothes of a gentleman. Yet his suits were a little too stiff, his top hat too shiny about the brim and the collar of his shirt too tight on his neck. He affected to walk with a brass-topped cane, swinging it ostentatiously while Clara gazed at him striding up the pathway. Compared to Nathan, who wore his gentility with a careless air, Oscar was overly aware of making a genteel impression.

Alongside Oscar, a varied array of Charlotte’s friends would visit frequently: painters, writers, social reformers. They were invariably middle-class, or landed gentry that had settled in the city, and they were all at ease in displaying their opinions to the world.

Of all the frequent visitors, Kitty most looked forward to Gilbert and Ernest coming to dine. Unlike some of Charlotte’s acquaintances, who talked down to her, assuming her lack of breeding meant social incompetence, these two gentlemen had no qualms about treating her as an equal.

The more she saw the three men together, the more she could see how their friendship operated. They were like mathematical compasses – Ernest was the arm with the pointed tip, standing tall and keeping their place secure. Gilbert was the hinge, holding everything together, bridging any disputes. And Nathan was the outer arm, sweeping in wider and wider circles.

Ernest would bring his recently-acquired, loping Irish wolfhound with him, who was universally loved by the entire household, especially Maddie. He would feed the dog scraps off the dinner table: something which even Mrs Gilroy, such a stickler for appropriate table manners, would turn a blind eye to. The dog was named Albert “after our dear, departed Prince Consort” explained Ernest to Kitty, as the dog joyfully took another piece of meat out of his hand. “I like to think that the Queen’s husband has been reincarnated as this majestic beast,” he continued, eyes crinkling in amusement.

“Perhaps you can take him to visit the many monuments to his name,” laughed Kitty. “There’s the concert hall, and his memorial. Even the South Kensington Museum now bears his name.”

“You could purchase a cat for his companion and name her Victoria,” suggested Gilbert, joining their conversation.

“But that would be needlessly cruel!” laughed Charlotte. “God forbid what would happen if poor darling Albert died. Then your cat would grieve for the rest of her lifetime.”

Nathan interrupted, surprisingly serious in the midst of their frivolity: “We mustn’t mock the Queen for excessive grief. I know of many cases where the patient has mourned for a number of years. Grief may even last a lifetime.”

The company were momentarily subdued, until Charlotte, always the one to rally everyone, suddenly declared: “I think that Albert is trying to tell us something!”

All eyes fell on the dog. “Yes..? Yes… yes… I agree.” Charlotte spoke seriously, nodding all the while as if she was conversing with the animal. “Albert says: Nathan, please don’t be so serious at dinner. You know it’s not good for your health.”

Nathan couldn’t help but laugh then, rising from the table to call for Clara to bring more wine. After dinner, they fell into their usual poses: Charlotte and Ernest arguing good-naturedly over the progress with their social housing project; Nathan attempting to read by the fire, until Albert deliberately tipped his open book and placed his inquisitive head in Nathan’s lap. Gilbert would invariably implore Kitty to listen to the latest pages of his novel – some of which were scant notes rather than a true narrative – which she did patiently, enjoying the chance to be a critical reader.

………………

And so time went on. A new century arrived, and the harbingers of doom who had predicted the end of the world were proved wrong. The pessimists who had proclaimed ‘now, everything will change’ sunk back dejectedly into their gloom, as the city rolled into the new age with barely a backwards glance.

Nathan’s sleepwalking grew less frequent for a while, until Kitty realised a month had passed without her having been woken to the sound of his tormented cries.

She enjoyed her access to the household library – although Charlotte had been correct in saying there was little on the shelves suitable for Maddie’s edification. Kitty had already devoured at least five shelves-full of novels by the light of her lamp, curled up under her bedcovers.

In keeping with the liberalism of the household, Kitty was not expected to prescribe a formal curriculum for Maddie. Instead, Charlotte suggested that they take advantage of the city’s many museums as places of learning. Kitty would take the underground railway with Maddie, holding on tightly to her hand through the bustling termini, and they would visit the newly renamed Victoria and Albert Museum, or the British Museum of Natural History. The girl would stand on tip-toe in front of the multitude of cases containing historical treasures, Kitty reading the name cards that explained their provenance.

The main building of the natural history museum was a wonder to behold. Ernest had declaimed it “the belle dame of modern architecture” when Kitty told him of their visits.              

“On your next visit, you should point out the tiles to Maddie,” he’d said. “The tiles are terracotta – practical, as they resist the infernal soot of our climate, but also beautiful. The former museum director had it so that they are decorated with relief sculptures of the flora and fauna displayed in the museum. The living species are represented on tiles in the west wing, whilst any extinct species are to be found in the east wing.”

“Why did he separate them – the living and the dead species?” asked Kitty, keen to understand.

“He didn’t agree with Darwin’s theory – many eminent naturalists still don’t. He thought that once something is extinct, it is gone, and can no longer permeate into living species through the process of inheritance. So it was a deliberate separation: to show that the dead can no longer affect the living.”

Kitty thought there might not be such a separation. Where she’d grown up, the estate hands had told her stories about malevolent spirits that still inhabited the land, blighting the crops and bringing merciless plagues. She’d been too long away from that world to fully believe it – and the new company she kept had questioning but scientific minds – yet she still shivered in remembrance. The dead could hold sway amongst the living, she told herself, but only in tales.


	5. The Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Charlotte quotes from ‘Romeo and Juliet’, Act 2 sc2 – Romeo’s words to Juliet during the ‘balcony scene’.
> 
> @quiltineb on Tumblr did some great artwork to illustrate the 'Nathan and Kitty on their night-time walk' scene later in this chapter. Their artwork can be found on Tumblr [here](https://quiltineb.tumblr.com/image/164637720618)

_Summer, 1900_

The summer solstice came and went. No pagan bonfires were lit in quiet Hampstead, although Clara had told Kitty of households where practising mediums visited discreetly or séances were held. The urban version of superstition and spiritualism was simply hidden behind a red-brick veneer, rather than celebrated in the open.

Soon after midsummer’s eve, the whole household and assorted hangers-on decamped to Cornwall. Only Tom stayed behind to be “the guardian of the house”, as he grandly put it.

Mrs Gilroy grumbled at having to pack everything lock, stock and barrel, including some of the cooking pots and utensils. Maddie ran round the nursery excitedly, trying to decide which of her dolls she could bear to leave behind. Kitty found it easy to pack: her few dresses and a number of books were all that she needed.

Soon, they were heading westwards: halting overnight at Oxford and Bath before crossing the border into Devon. As the railway had not yet extended into the more rural areas they wanted to reach, the remainder of their trip took them more than two jolting, dusty days. In the first coach rode Nathan, Charlotte and Maddie; followed by Oscar, Ernest and Gilbert in the second – with Albert riding up alongside the coachman. The trio of Kitty, Clara and Mrs Gilroy travelled in the coach at the rear of the party.

Maddie couldn’t contain her excitement at her first real ‘holiday’, imploring the coachman from inside their carriage to “please stop being so lackadaisical”, at which Charlotte raised her eyebrows in amusement.

“Where on earth did you learn such an impressive word, Maddie?” she asked.

“From Kitty. She knows a lot of long words. The most of anyone I know,” replied the child solemnly.

“And what other long words have you learnt?” asked Nathan, putting down a book about Cornish geology and leaning forward to join in their conversation.

“Hmm… fossilised, ichthyosaur and impressionist,” said Maddie, thinking about all her trips to the natural history and art museums in London. “Oh, and somnambulist. Although I just heard Oscar say that word, and I don’t know what it means.”

Nathan leant back in his seat again, resolving to talk to Oscar about being more circumspect in his conversation: little girls have big ears. “How about this for a long word?” he said, fingering his geology book. “Carboniferous – do you know what that means?”

Maddie shook her head earnestly.

“Where we’re going in Cornwall, the rocks are mostly carboniferous – sandstone and shale. They allow the water to run through them, so the rock is easily eroded.”

“What’s ‘eroded’?”

“‘Worn away’,” smiled Nathan. “Which is why we stay on the paths and don’t walk too close to the cliff’s edge: the rocks might crumble. Although I was thinking that the locals might fashion me a sling and dangle me from the cliff-top, so I can inspect the rock layers up close.”

Maddie stared at her father, wide-eyed and believing. Charlotte turned to Nathan and nudged him playfully. “Darling, **I** can tell when you’re not being serious, but our daughter cannot.”

“Who says I’m not being serious?” laughed Nathan. “But no, Maddie, I’m not about to be thrown off any cliff-tops. We can fossil-hunt on the beach, as a family. Would you like that?”

“Yes, please!” Maddie almost jumped off the cushioned bench with joy. “Do I get to be the head fossil-hunter?”

“Of course,” replied Nathan indulgently. “With your own special pail and your own special hammer.”

“Can we be fossil-hunters as soon as we arrive?”

“Perhaps not immediately. But once we’re settled at the house, then yes.” Maddie seemed mollified by that, and started to tap on the inside wall of the coach with her pretend hammer, keenly inspecting pretend rocks for fossilised remains.

Once they’d eventually arrived, everyone declared the house to be in a wonderful spot. Even Mrs Gilroy, for all her grumbling, found the air was far fresher than that in London. They had rented a former farmhouse on the edge of a village called Morwenstow: a tiny hamlet that was composed of a tavern, a couple of cottages and a pretty church – all of which looked down sloping fields to the winding cliff paths and wild sea.

Kitty was rooming with Clara, although she hoped that they would be outdoors for much of the time, or that Clara would find excuses to disappear off with Oscar. Whilst Clara was well-meaning, her conversation was incessant.

Clara, however, was the least of her worries, for Kitty soon found that she had a constant shadow in the form of Gilbert. He seemed to detect where she was, even if she had hidden herself away with a book. It wasn’t that she didn’t like his company – he was lively and cheerful – but she felt that Gilbert needed little encouragement to misconstrue their relationship: which she saw as friendship, nothing more.

Thankfully, the sea air and relative rest had calmed Nathan’s nightmares, so that Kitty no longer heard his strange cries at night. By taking time away from his patients’ demands, he had space to focus on restoring his own health. It was as if he’d finally taken the age-old advice to heart: ‘Physician, heal thyself’.

………………

During their final week at the farmhouse, they had all taken a trip to Sandymouth, a beach that was only accessible down a narrow lane, followed by a hike down an even narrower path to the rocky shore.

Kitty had left the main party and was sitting on a bench atop the cliff face, which was perfect for reading whilst admiring the view. She could see the trio of Nathan, Charlotte and Maddie below, a triptych of bent heads all assiduously tapping away to free any fossilised remains from the stones on the beach.

From Kitty’s distant perspective, it looked like a perfect tableau of family life, and she was glad to hear Maddie’s shouts of delight as her father handed her a small rock: “A fern! Look, a fossilised fern!” Ernest was striding purposefully at the sea’s edge, Albert jumping in and out of the surf, and the child ran towards him to triumphantly to show off her find, the rock held above her head.

Left alone, Nathan and Charlotte gazed at their daughter’s retreating back.

“Who would have thought, that in amongst the many thousands of rocks on this beach, we would discover… where did you buy it again?” asked Charlotte, already in on their ‘surprise find’.

“At a market in Bude. I was told it was a genuine fossil: the price suggested otherwise. But let’s not disappoint Maddie.” Nathan winked, and Charlotte bent closer to kiss him and seal the secret. Happening to look up from their kiss, Charlotte saw the figure of Gilbert wending his way to intercept Kitty.

“ _‘With love’s light wings did I o’erperch these walls’_ ,” she quoted. Seeing Nathan’s incomprehension, she tilted her head skywards and he followed the direction of her gaze. “Do you think he will propose to Kitty?”

“Undoubtedly,” sighed Nathan.

“And he will be morose for..?” enquired Charlotte knowingly.

“A month, perhaps? Poor Gilbert…”

“And after so many tentative engagements! You’d think he would use his better judgement by now,” laughed Charlotte.

“We are none of us good judges when it comes to love,” intoned Nathan with mock solemnity.

“Does that apply to you and me?” asked Charlotte playfully.

“No. With you, I had no doubt of my judgement,” he replied, fondly taking her hand into his own. “But it applies to a large proportion of the human race.” Nathan glanced up at the cliff face as Gilbert approached Kitty, sincerely hoping that his friend wasn’t going to be love’s fool once again.

Kitty too had noticed Gilbert labouring towards her, and realised that she had no path to escape to. She put down her book and awaited his approach, hoping their conversation would be inconsequential and light.

“Kitty!” Gilbert hailed her. “I see you have found a place where you can enjoy both your book and the scenery.”

Kitty nodded. “Yes, thank you Gilbert. It’s the perfect spot. It looks like Maddie’s just discovered her fossil.”

“Yes, well… I was there when Nathan bought it for her. The perfect ruse,” Gilbert shifted from foot to foot, looking uncomfortable.

“Gilbert, do you want to sit down?” she asked, hoping and praying that he wouldn’t.

But Gilbert sat down next to her and peered down at the beach. “Look at Nathan and Charlotte. A complete picture of a very handsome, married couple. If only others could have such a love as theirs,” he proclaimed. Then, turning to her, he took her hand. “Kitty. I must ask… Do you think..?”

Kitty realised with dawning horror what was about to happen, and tried to compose her response in advance. “Gilbert. I don’t think…”

“Did you know what I was going to ask?” he said, his eyes widening.

“Yes, I do. I mean – I did,” she corrected herself, in case he took her first words as assent.

“And do you?”

“Do I what?” she replied, pretending ignorance.

“Love me? Or ever think that you could grow to love me?” Gilbert beseeched her, still clutching her hand.

“Gilbert…” she felt terrible, but she had to put a stop to his absurd appeal. It was unfair to give him hope. “I don’t want to marry you.”

“In the future, perhaps, you may change your mind…” he replied, undeterred.

“I’m afraid that I don’t think I will,” she said, resolutely.

Gilbert took his hand away and looked down dejectedly, before slowly rising from his seat. “Then that is all.” He walked away, back bent. She was dismayed to hear his parting shot, the words slung over his shoulder and carried to her on the wind: “I know why you don’t love me. And you can’t have him. He’s in love with his wife, for God’s sake, for all the world to see!”

The trip back to the house that evening was much quieter than the outbound journey. Some of the party were physically tired, whilst others were emotionally spent. Kitty gave tiredness as an excuse to avoid dinner and retire to bed early. But with Gilbert’s wretched look and final words preying on her mind, she found it hard to get any sleep.

Once she’d heard the church clock strike eleven plaintively, she ventured downstairs and stoked the embers in the wide hearth, until she had enough light to read by. In her nightdress and with a blanket tucked round her, she was soon curled up on a sofa and had completely escaped into the world of her book. She was so absorbed, she only became aware that Nathan had appeared directly in front of her when he cleared his throat loudly.

She started violently, thinking that he was sleepwalking again, but then she quickly realised that he was still wearing his day clothes, although he’d loosened his shirt and his braces hung by his sides. He tilted his head to match the angle of her upturned gaze and smiled.

“Sorry to disturb you. I didn’t feel like sleeping, so I decided to work,” he said by way of explanation, collapsing into the chair on the opposite side of the hearth. “But it’s not going well. How’s the book? The dead might have risen, and nothing could have stirred you from your reading.”

“The book? Oh – it is very absorbing. ‘The Tenant of Wildfell Hall’. Have you read it?”

“I’ve _heard of_ it – there was some scandal on its publication I think? – but no, I’ve not read it,” he replied, then suddenly grinned at her broadly. “Here’s a diversion… do you want to go a walk? The wind’s died down a little.”

“What – now?” Kitty couldn’t help herself.

“Yes – now. Or do you think that nature disappears after dark?” teased Nathan. “And we’ve only got a few days left here: we should make the most of the time. I’ll light a lantern, and if we follow the cliff path round we won’t get lost. Think of it as a night-time expedition.”

“But I’m not dressed for walking,” she protested, knowing that Nathan would deflect that weak excuse.

“There are plenty of overcoats and stout shoes in the porch – I’m sure we’ll manage to assemble outfits that will protect us from the wind. Come on!” And with that pronouncement, Nathan leapt to his feet and disappeared in the direction of the hallway, without waiting for her answer.

Kitty felt excitement, mixed with a niggling worry about the propriety of walking at night and alone with her employer. But her excitement quickly won out and she followed him into the front hall, where they soon struggled into an assorted apparel of overcoats, scarves and galoshes.

“Shall we?” Nathan opened the door, sweeping his arm through the air in a grand theatrical gesture to encourage the two of them outside. Kitty walked out in front of him into the night, Nathan holding the lantern aloft so it lit up the stony path down to the meadow’s edge, the cliffs and the sea invisible beyond that.

It was pitch black outside, but she was far more accustomed to that depth of darkness than the muddy night skies in the city, and walked confidently alongside Nathan. They talked of Maddie’s educational progress, what Kitty thought of the Cornish landscape, and Nathan’s passion for the geology of the place.

After some time of skirting the cliff edge, Nathan suggested they stopped for a while to get their breath, Kitty sinking gladly onto the meadow grass. She could just about make out his face in the uplight cast by the flickering lantern and from the moonlight that glanced through the veiling clouds.

“You mustn’t worry about Gilbert, you know,” said Nathan suddenly, as if he’d been reading her mind. “He might be hurt for a while, but then he will rally round.”

 “Did he say anything to you?” asked Kitty with concern.

“Yes.” Nathan inclined his head. “He spoke to me after dinner tonight. You know Gilbert – he likes to express his feelings fully.”

“I feel like I would be accepting his proposal out of duty rather than love. I’m not even sure that I want to be married.”

“We are all of us torn between duty and reason, love and desire,” replied Nathan sagely, playing with a blade of grass he’d picked.

“Do you think I should have accepted?” she asked, mindful of his good opinion.

“As much as I am Gilbert’s true friend: no, not at all. You should choose who you think is right.”

Kitty breathed an imperceptible sigh: “You and Charlotte are my template. You have such a wonderful marriage…”

“Please… don’t take my marriage as your lodestar!” exclaimed Nathan. “Charlotte and I let each other do what we please – to a limit. Sometimes that has worked. Sometimes it has failed entirely. It has generally allowed our marriage to survive and to thrive. But it isn’t an approach that would suit everyone. It’s knowing the person well – and what works for them and for you – that makes a relationship last.”

“You understand so much about human emotion,” said Kitty unguardedly. “Not many men do – except perhaps Shakespeare, or Dickens.”

Nathan laughed outright at the comparison: “Perhaps I’ve gained some insight because of my profession. I think that writers and psychologists are both surveyors of human nature. Writers gaze upon it and explore it – psychologists try to treat our human imperfections. We each have to understand the human psyche in order to do that. For example, I would say that you are proud and determined, but also astute and imaginative. Is that a fair assessment?”

Kitty had hoped for softer words than these, but had to admit he’d judged her correctly. “I believe so, Dr Appleby. And you are intelligent and passionate, but also forthright and mercurial.”

“Hmm… ‘mercurial’? My dearest friends have called me worse,” concurred Nathan. “A very wise description, Dr Kitty. Come on – the damp in the grass is seeping through my coat. We should head home.”

Nathan offered his hand to help her up. Looking at him, Kitty could tell he was amused rather than hurt by her description of him – it had been a return strike on her part. But she couldn’t help feeling that they had both overstepped a boundary; that the faint line between them, already blurred, had now been washed away completely.

Returning to the house and hastily shedding her outdoor garments, Kitty excused herself to a bemused Nathan and almost ran up the stairs to bed, letting herself into the bedroom quietly so as not to disturb Clara. The fresh air had done its trick and she was soon adrift in sleep, where she dreamt that she was on the cliff-top again.

In the dream, she was wearing nothing but her nightdress – but she did not feel any chill. She could feel the wet grass underneath her bare feet – although she felt no cold. She could hear the sound of the insistent waves beating a pounding rhythm on the rocks below – yet she felt no breath of wind. She became aware of Nathan standing beside her, and turned to him. He leant towards her, tucking her hair behind her ear, and began to whisper to her about duty and desire, his breath making her skin tingle. She lifted her cheek so that it grazed his, and pulled at his shirt sleeve so that their two distinct bodies in silhouette moved closer and became one.


	6. The Aftermath

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> • Gilbert quotes from ‘Hamlet’, Act 1 sc2 – the soliloquy where Hamlet is contemplating suicide.  
> • Kitty quotes from ‘Othello’, Act 5 sc2 – Othello’s self-assessment about his love for his (wrongly presumed to be unfaithful) wife, the truly virtuous ‘fair Desdemona’.

Kitty woke the next day to find that rain was pouring down the windowpane and that the wind had picked up. The darkening skies outside reflected her tormented mood: she was ashamed of her rejection of Gilbert and keen to avoid him, which would be difficult if they were housebound; and she felt mortified by her half-remembered dream, is if Nathan could see into her mind and find out about the emergence of her unspoken desires.

Clara had already got up to assist Mrs Gilroy with breakfast, so Kitty sleepily made her way downstairs to help them – looking out for Gilbert all the while. Unusually for this time of day, Mrs Gilroy was not in the kitchen, but busy rearranging coats and boots in the hallway: “I could have sworn…” she was muttering, then looked up, saw Kitty and smiled. “I’m talking to myself.”

“I do that too – frequently in fact,” Kitty reassured her, and stooped down to help. She and Nathan had left things in quite a disordered state when they’d returned last night.

Fortunately, the threat of dismal skies appeared to have stopped a number of their party from taking breakfast, including Gilbert and Nathan, so at least Kitty was spared the ignominy of facing both men over the ridiculous normality of fruit preserves and teapot. She would have to get herself together, she decided. She couldn’t let her inner fears and wants get the better of her: otherwise her days in the Appleby household would be difficult from now on.

A cry from Maddie stopped her breakfast short, and Kitty ran up to her room to find out what was wrong. She found Charlotte there already, half-dressed, trying to console her daughter.

“What’s wrong?” asked Kitty with concern.

Maddie looked up from her mother’s arms, all tear-streaked face and trembling lips, but didn’t say anything.

“Maddie’s lost her fossil,” explained Charlotte calmly. “She swears she had it on the charabanc all the way home – which means it must be around here somewhere.”

“Don’t worry Maddie, we’ll find it!” said Kitty brightly. Today, she felt like her surface was all shine, while directly underneath was stormy. A ‘find the fossil’ hunt was something that could distract her from troubled thoughts and restore Maddie’s mood.

Maddie immediately went from Charlotte’s embrace and took Kitty’s hand, already starting to cheer up.

“Thank you, Kitty,” smiled Charlotte. “Once I’m properly dressed, I’ll help you both look.” Kitty felt terrible when faced with Charlotte’s instinctive goodness, as her improper thoughts about Nathan rose again to the surface. She gulped them back down and determined to bury them deep.

The hunt took less time than anticipated, as Clara was shaking out Maddie’s clothes from the day before to hang them in her wardrobe, when the stone with the fern leaf imprint fell out of the child’s skirt pocket. By then, enough of the morning had been whittled away and the sun had started to break out tentatively from behind the rainclouds, for them to anticipate a walk to the beach.

Kitty escaped the house with Maddie and Charlotte, thankful again that she still hadn’t seen Gilbert or Nathan hoving into view – although she soon found out the reason why.

“Nathan and his companions got up extra-early to go fishing,” confided Charlotte as they wended their way down to the beach. “They are madmen: Nathan thinks they will catch armfuls of cod for our dinner, but I expect a small bucketful of sardines.”

Kitty realised that the nocturnal jaunt with Nathan wasn’t about him wanting to spend time with her – it was to counsel her over Gilbert. And today he was doing the same for Gilbert, by taking his friend fishing. She felt nauseous.

“Kitty, are you alright?” Charlotte had stopped and shouted for Maddie, who was tripping ahead of them on the path, to pause for a moment too.

“I think so, thank you,” smiled Kitty weakly.

Charlotte came back up the path and placed the back of her cool hand on Kitty’s forehead, to reassure herself it wasn’t a fever. “My dear, if your malaise is due to Gilbert, do not worry: he will recover in less time than you expect.”

‘Did _everyone_ know?’ thought Kitty, then had another sharp realisation – Nathan and Charlotte must have discussed it yesterday evening. Oh, fool fool fool. “Do you mind if I go back to the house? I’m really not feeling well.”

“Of course – go home and rest. Mrs Gilroy can make you a broth if you like. Just ask.” Charlotte’s solicitude made Kitty feel even worse, and she didn’t dare look back at mother and daughter as they continued down the hill towards the beach.

She stumbled back up the slope, hardly noticing the wind whipping the leaves or the stone walls on either side standing grimly steadfast against the elements. She heard a noise from the churchyard, and looked over to the church itself.

At the far side of the moss-covered headstones and tangled grass, only partially hidden from view, were Oscar and Clara. She was spread-eagled against the church wall, Oscar pushed up against her. Clara’s skirts were above her waist, and his hands were on her bare thighs, the pale skin gripped by his fingers. Clara had her face buried in Oscar’s neck and he was grunting in pleasure.

Kitty ducked below the wall and continued breathlessly up the path, but was certain that Clara had raised her head and seen her in the last second. It wasn’t until she reached the house that she stopped to catch her breath. She wasn’t innocent – she’d seen enough couples drunkenly fumbling by country lanes – but she felt like the whole idea of pleasure was being turned on its head, from last night’s dream to the sordid reality she’d just seen.

She entered the house, thankful that there would be no-one there but Mrs Gilroy, so she would have a chance to hide away in her bedroom for at least a few hours and reassert herself.

………………

Given the opportunity to recuperate, Kitty managed to join in the dinner table conversation that evening with something approaching her usual demeanour. As Charlotte had predicted, the gentlemen had caught nothing but sardines and sprats, but Mrs Gilroy had baked a hearty pie in anticipation of their meagre haul.

Despite not having caught anything that would cement their repute as fishermen, Nathan and his cohorts had clearly enjoyed their day casting off-shore and had the wind-burned cheeks to prove it, so the conversation revolved around their exploits.

Even so, the atmosphere was off-kilter. Kitty could feel Clara glaring at her from behind her back, and Gilbert avoiding her gaze from the front, while Nathan and Charlotte cast her subtle looks of sympathy at every opportunity. Only Ernest and Oscar seemed blissfully unaware of the tumult of feelings criss-crossing the table.

After dinner, Gilbert pointedly importuned her to sit by the fire with him in the parlour “so I can talk to you about my novel, and ask your opinion about something”. A bewildered Kitty didn’t know how to respond, so she acquiesced. However, she made sure to sit on the small sofa beside Ernest so that Gilbert couldn’t capture her on the same couch. Ernest, hiding behind his newspaper and ready to droop into an after-dinner doze, looked over and smiled at her benignly. So even he knew, she thought.

“I’d like your opinion,” began Gilbert from the other side of the hearth. He was sitting primly on the same chair that Nathan had lounged in last night, was her sudden remembrance.

“Really, Gilbert, must you? I’ve a bellyful of pie and a good pint of claret to digest. If it’s about that damned Shakespeare quote again…” started Ernest, rustling his newspaper in annoyance.

“I’m not asking for your opinion, Ernest. I’m asking for Kitty’s,” retorted Gilbert uncharacteristically.

“I’m so sorry Kitty. You may have to endure…” whispered Ernest, with a sideways glance that silently said ‘he’s been like this all day.’

“Here is the plot point,” continued Gilbert. “My hero – through hearing of new evidence that has come to light while he languishes in his holding cell – has found out that his love has betrayed him. He is at his lowest ebb…”

“Really Gilbert, must you? This is too much!” interrupted Ernest, shaking the pages of his newspaper vigorously.

“No, Ernest, it’s fine. I’m all agog to hear it,” replied Kitty. She wanted to show them how strong she could be, even though she was quaking at what might come next.

“Thank you Kitty. As I was saying: he is at his lowest ebb. I would like to employ a quote from Shakespearean tragedy at this juncture in the narrative. I think Shakespeare understood the human condition best, don’t you? Which do you think it is right to use? I was thinking of _‘that this too, too solid flesh would melt’_ from Hamlet’s first soliloquy.”

Kitty pretended to think. She knew Shakespeare better than anyone present, but she had to be careful not to hurt Gilbert further – even though the very plot point he’d asked her about was a deliberate dramatisation of his own feelings, to needle her.

After a judicious pause, she responded. “I think something grander may be more suitable. I would favour Othello’s: _‘Then must you speak / Of one that loved not wisely, but too well.’_ After all, in your novel, the heroine is surely maligned, just as _‘fair Desdemona’_ was. Does that help you with your predicament? Now, if you’ll excuse me gentlemen, I’ll go and check if Mrs Gilroy needs my assistance in the kitchen.”

Gilbert was left visibly floundering, while Ernest remained hidden behind his newspaper, thinking privately that Kitty had made the right choice in declining the proposal – she was far too full of fire for Gilbert.

In the kitchen, Mrs Gilroy was scraping the remains of the pie into a smaller dish “that will be good for a portion of picnic lunch tomorrow – the forecast is much better according to our fishermen!” Clara, unusually quiet, was drying the crockery and stacking it. When she saw Kitty enter, she visibly cringed, which fortunately Mrs Gilroy did not see.

Kitty approached the sink and, with Mrs Gilroy now safely clattering away in the pantry, said _sotto voce_ : “Clara, please don’t be angry with me. I just happened to be passing by. I wasn’t looking out on purpose.”

“I’m not angry,” hissed Clara. “I’m ashamed.”

Kitty was taken aback; she hadn’t expected this response. “You shouldn’t be – it’s entirely natural…”

“But not before we’re married. I’m pretending to enjoy it. Don’t you see? I’m pretending, so I can get a good husband. I’m giving him everything he asks for.”

“Don’t do that, Clara. Please. He won’t respect you, and you certainly won’t respect yourself,” implored Kitty.

“But it’s the only way, for girls like us. If you’re born into poor circumstances, you stay in them. So you get yourself a good husband. You climb the shaky fence out of some rich household and into a much poorer one. But at least you can call it your own.” Clara paused in her outburst, and turned towards Kitty. “I’m surprised you didn’t accept Gilbert: he would make a fair husband, and he has money enough.”

“That’s the trouble, Clara,” sighed Kitty. “He would be a fair husband: not a fine one.”

“Well then, don’t go mooning over Nathan. He’s not that much finer, and he’s married,” said Clara sharply.

“Clara, I’m not ‘mooning’ over anyone,” lied Kitty. “And please, I beg you – don’t demean yourself just so Oscar will stay with you. It’s not right. Mutual respect, trust – these should be the foundation of a relationship.”

“You’ve been spending too much time with Dr Appleby: you’re starting to converse like him,” laughed Clara, seemingly back to herself. But then she faced Kitty full on and whispered to her: “Swear to keep what you saw of me and Oscar a secret. If you do, I won’t breathe a word to anyone about you and Nathan.”

“I won’t tell a soul, Clara,” replied Kitty, confronting her in turn. “But you don’t have to make me swear on anything, because there is no ‘me and Nathan’.”

“Maybe not in the open for all to see – but in your head there is. I know it. You were murmuring his name in your sleep last night, and breathing such sighs and groans I swore you had a lover in the very room with you. So, we’ll make a pact to keep one another’s secrets? Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Clara made a sign across her chest to signify the sealing of their pact, before leaving Kitty to clutch at the sink edge and wonder if everyone knew about _everything_ , except for her.

**Author's Note:**

> ‘Above stairs’ and ‘below stairs’ referred to the occupants’ positions in large country houses. The master of the house and his family lived ‘above stairs’ in the main house. The servants occupied ‘below stairs’, as servants’ quarters were typically located in the basement of a house. 
> 
> However, the concept of ‘above’ and ‘below’ also reflected their respective social status, so the Inspector from Scotland Yard and the barrister are also considered ‘above stairs’ – they would have been middle/upper class.
> 
> Some of the characters in this story are ‘in between’ – trying to climb the social ladder: whether that’s by educating themselves; ingratiating themselves with the gentry, or simply choosing to be bold and stand out.  


End file.
